


Love in the time of corona

by Zwergenmaedchen



Category: British Actor RPF, Good Omens (TV) RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Blow Jobs, COVID-19, Coronavirus, Covid-19 in this fic exists merely as a plot device to get them locked up in a hotel together, Emotional Hurt, Eventual Smut, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Hand Jobs, Just to clarify: At no point in this fic will any character get sick or die or anything, Kissing, Lack of Communication, M/M, Not Happy, Oh my god they were quarantined, Or not-so platonic cuddling, Pining, Platonic Cuddling, but they're not sick!, for a second?, hngh it's gonna get angsty, if you squint? - Freeform, maybe a hint of dub-con, only quarantined, real life partners exist but outside of the quarantine, technically polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:15:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23286883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zwergenmaedchen/pseuds/Zwergenmaedchen
Summary: It's a new part of the routine, David letting Michael see him like this. In the beginning, he'd taken care to get dressed and styled properly before Michael came over, which had always seemed ridiculous to Michael as they'd seen each other in any kind of order or lack thereof while filming but well, to each their own. The last two mornings, though, had seen David in comfy jeans and even comfier looking shirts, his hair still all fluffed from bed and his face still blurred with the hint of growing stubble.Or: The One Where They're Quarantined Together For Some Reason And It Makes Things Happen
Relationships: Michael Sheen/David Tennant
Comments: 41
Kudos: 96





	1. In the Beginning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Minikitkatgirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minikitkatgirl/gifts).



> Happy Birthday to the lovely minikitkatgirl/ingravinoveritas! (I do so hope I've got this right and you're actually the same person, if not my humblest apologies 😅) We don't really know each other and your birthday is technically already over in my time zone but I just wanted to give this to you bc shit sucks right now and you deserve some distraction from that! All the love to you 💜

How they ended up like this almost seems inconsequential by now. They just did. Maybe it was fate. What a silly thought. 

'Another minute?' David asks, then - in a whisper - adds: 'If you don't mind?'

Michael doesn't mind. He shakes his head no and represses a full-body shiver when David tightens his arms around him again. 

'I miss them so much, you know?' David says in a small voice.

Michael knows, and understands. He feels the same but another part of him relishes this opportunity, doesn't want it to end just yet.

'How would you feel about- We could, if you want - I mean, obviously, if you want - watch something? Netflix and Chill?' Michael suggests, allowing himself the joke because he is quite sure David won't get it. And if he does, well, no risk - no fun.

'Yea, that's a good idea.' But David doesn't move, doesn't let go.

_Shit_ , Michael thinks, because this is a bad idea, but also he wants to cheer David up and they both need that ~~and he wants he wants he wants~~ , so he gently tugs at David's shirt to steer him to the sofa.

'Come on, this'll be nice,' he says softly and David follows reluctantly, awkwardly, at a distance between too close and not close enough ~~and please come closer~~.

It's up to Michael, obviously, to prompt and prod and tug David once they're sitting, or - in David's case - sprawling, on the sofa, so that David is leaning against Michael, Michael's arm around him, his head tucked under Michael's chin. 

'Thank you,' David murmurs. It's hard to see from this angle but Michael thinks there might be the faintest hint of a blush on David's cheeks and because that might be too much for his damned heart, he has to look away. 

'It's alright. And hey, only one more week and you're free from me again!'

'Provided neither of us gets ill in the meantime,' David says and maybe Michael is imagining it but he seems to snuggle a bit closer to Michael. Michael hums.

Two episodes in, David lets his head fall to the side with a tired sigh, landing his cheek laying on Michael's forearm. He's warm and soft and scratchy. Michael pauses the show and looks to David. 

'Do you want to go to bed?' he asks, brushing back the hair falling into David's eyes before he realizes what he's doing and how it might sound. He vows to sit on his fingers from now on.

Uncertainty blurring his gaze, David looks up at him, nodding shortly. 

It's hard to say good night and leave David, looking lost and lonely in this beige and brown and boring hotel room that looks nothing like a home and feels even less like it, to enter another beige and brown room that is just as empty. 

*

The next morning starts much like the last, and the one before that, and the one before that. It's amazing how quickly routine enters even the most extraordinary circumstances and makes itself at home in the unusual.

After checking the news (more borders being closed, more people infected, less hope of a quick end to this pandemic), a thorough and indulgent shower, a long and heart-breaking video call with Anna and Lyra, and a shorter traditional phone call to his parents to make sure everyone is as well as they can be, Michael opens the door to pick up his breakfast and knocks on David's door.

David lets him in almost instantly and they each take their preferred seats at the small bureau in the corner. (After two days they had stopped bothering to bring the second chair back into Michael's room.)  
They wordlessly swap out David's little jar of marmalade and Michael's slice of cheese and eat in silence, only interrupted by the now familiar sounds of the girls in the room upstairs playing catch. Michael smiles at David when one of them very audibly wins this round and David returns the smile. 

'Any news?' Michael asks, leaning back with a cup of tea cradled firmly between his fingers while David shakes his head no. They're itching to reach out and sort the mess that is David's hair in the morning but as long as he's holding _something_ , he can hold back, he reasons with himself.

It's a new part of the routine, David letting Michael see him like this. In the beginning, he'd taken care to get dressed and styled properly before Michael came over, which had always seemed ridiculous to Michael as they'd seen each other in any kind of order or lack thereof while filming but well, to each their own. The last two mornings, though, had seen David in comfy jeans and even comfier looking shirts, his hair still all fluffed from bed and his face still blurred with the hint of growing stubble.

And now.

Now Michael remembers how that stubble felt against his own skin and how he wants to feel it all over his body.  
David speaks and Michael tries to listen but all he takes notice of is the movement of David's lips, and his tongue and his teeth. Michael never would've imagined himself to become attracted to a person's teeth but here they are now.

'So?' David is looking at him, clearly expecting an answer.  
'Film or board games today?

'I uh, I was actually hoping to get some paperwork done, if you don't mind…'

Michael wants nothing less than to get some paperwork done right now but as he glances down at his feet he finds they have crossed considerably more than half the width of the space between David and him and it's too close, too much, not enough. He flees, politely.

*

He ignores no less than three texts by David until the afternoon comes and he can't conceivably pretend to be doing anything else than lying on the bed. Also, he'll be damned if he's able to survive this without David's laughter, his running commentary on any chosen movie, show or game, his hand on Michael's back, or thigh, or - Michael is so fucked.

David opens the door after the second knock and takes a moment to just look at Michael. 

'What's wrong?' he asks, taking Michael's arm and tugging him inside. Michael shrugs. Gestures vaguely at nothing in particular. Looks everywhere but David's eyes. Sits down on the sofa, clasping his hands on his belly to keep himself from reaching out to David who is sitting far too near, watching him far too closely and Michael is sure he can see everything, will know everything from just one look.

They've made it an unspoken rule that they do not watch the news during the day, at least not if something doesn't come up that would warrant immediate attention. David turns off the telly immediately, looking slightly guilty, but Michael can't even blame him. He must've been bored as hell being all alone almost the whole day.

'Did you talk to the kids yet?' Michael asks.

David nods and shakes his head at the same time. He doesn't say 'I don't wanna talk about it,' but Michael hears him nevertheless. He considers apologizing for his absence but he'd be forced to explain then, and he doesn't know how to do that.

It's board games for the rest of the day, and card games occasionally. Thank God David's room has a small balcony so when the sun comes out at last, they decide to have an early dinner outside and after dinner, wine.  
When it gets colder, David snatches up the blankets from his bed and throws one at Michael before wrapping himself in the other one. It's domestic. Michael hates it. ~~He loves it.~~  
What's worse is, David slides down in his chair further and further until you can hardly call it sitting anymore, at which point he huffs exasperatedly and turns so he can place his calves on Michael's thighs, blanket and all.  
Michael is too stunned for a reaction and accepts the newly filled wine glass from David without a word.  
Neither of them mention it all evening.


	2. When we were winning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Michael releases his breath when David strokes his thumb over the back of his hand soothingly. This is really something they should talk about, maybe, he thinks. Instead, he allows his head to fall on David's shoulder, breathing in David's scent._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where the fic earns its rating and I've updated the tags as well ;) One more chapter to go after this, I think and uuuhhh...it's not looking like a happy ending for them this time. I'm sorry in advance if I turn out to be right (she said as if she wasn't the author and technically the one to decide how this fic ends)

If Michael had absolutely anything else to focus on, he would, but as it is, he cannot fail to notice how things have changed and keep changing.  
At first, it's only the occasional hug when everything becomes too much. They've long realized they're both more lonely than scared so they allow themselves this, as long as no one else is imperilled by their actions. Then it's a hand to his shoulder while David passes him by on the way to the toilet or the closet or wherever else he needs to go in that gilded cage of theirs. It's David's head on his shoulder when they watch a movie, David's fingers adjusting his collar, his _hair_. It's a kiss, to his forehead, after one long night of wine and sentimental talk.

It's Michael coming back to his own room night after night, reaching for his journal to document each wordless touch, freely given, each unconscious smile and unrestrained laughter that he manages to wrest from David's lips. He feels like a teenager again. ~~He hates how much he loves it.~~

*

There is still no question, not even a look, just the slow, unmistakable movement of David's fingers over Michael's, until he's covered his whole hand, pliant when David flips it over to cross their fingers, continuing to watch the film as if he wasn't just holding hands with Michael. 

Michael releases his breath when David strokes his thumb over the back of his hand soothingly. This is really something they should talk about, maybe, he thinks. Instead, he allows his head to fall on David's shoulder, breathing in David's scent.

*

It's the silence that's weird, Michael decides. David isn't a silent man. Not that he's not a good listener, too, but he likes to talk and he likes to ask questions and he's not doing either of those anymore. Or, not so much. Anyway. It's different.

It's different enough that Michael starts to worry. He tries asking. 

'David,' he murmurs as they're (and there's no other word for it) cuddled up on the sofa, Michael's arms around David, they're hands entwined on David's chest, and David presses tiny kisses to the backs of his hands.

'David,' he repeats, more urgently. 

David doesn't look back at him, doesn't answer, just shakes his head.

And alright, maybe Michael is a coward and maybe they both are, but this is _nice_ and it's _fine_ and most importantly, this is an extraordinary situation, so if he doesn't quite know what to do...well, technically nobody does right now, so there's that.

*

They should really talk about this, Michael thinks, but his mouth is otherwise occupied by David's lips pressing against his, David's teeth dragging over his lower lip, prompting him to open up, and then David is kissing him, _really_ kissing him, open mouth, tongue, and completely indecent little gasps when Michael kisses back. And then Michael isn't thinking anymore. It's been weeks since anyone's kissed him and months that he has imagined kissing David for. Silence is a price worth paying for this.

David is in his lap, has been from the first minute that he has entered Michael's room today, day 17 of their lockdown, setting his glasses on the side table, disrupting their routine. He's moving and not stopping and Michael is half-hard already. His hands are in Michael's hair, holding his face, stroking down his neck and it has Michael shivering with need, pushing up into David, searching friction, and finding it in David rolling his hips against him.

'You're so- ahh. Jesus! That's good. Oh. Can I-' Michael asks between kisses and licks and bites at his lips, his cheek, his earlobe. He's rucking up David's shirt and David stops kissing him, stops touching him and that is _not good_ and it makes him whine embarrassingly, but it's only so David can strip off the shirt, letting it fall to the floor and returning to his ministrations, and _that_ is very good. 

David smells fantastic, and of course Michael knew that already, but now, nuzzling his face into the crook of his neck, he breathes in deeply and lets himself get lost in his scent. It's expensive cologne, and his hair products, the scent of his hand lotion (because even with all the reminders not to, he cannot stop touching his face all the time), a sugary undertone from the sweets he's munching constantly (as 'stress relief', he claims), and the smell of skin and sweat that's unique to any person. It's a combination that takes Michael deeper into this intoxication, makes him drunk and craving, wanting, yearning. He flicks his tongue out to taste.

David gasps and leans his head to the side to offer him better access and Michael follows the invitation, kissing wetly along his throat, nipping at his earlobe the way David had done to him which seems to be a success as it has David grinding down on him, hard, and his fingers tightening in Michael's hair.

'I want you,' David says.

There's a moment here, Michael knows, where he could be sensible, and responsible, pull back, talk to David (if he'd let him), stop this madness before it has the potential to ruin their friendship, their relationships, making the rest of this quarantine awkward and horrible and even harder to bear.

Or.

'Yes, please!'

He pushes at David to get his own shirt off and David slides down to his knees in front of him, his hands already at his zip. David kisses his belly, running his hands down his sides to slide into the waistband of his jeans, his pants, making Michael shiver.

'Fuck, you're gorgeous!' David says while helping Michael to wriggle out of his remaining clothes.

His hands are hot on Michael's thighs, his cheek stubbly against them when he looks up at him.

'Condoms?' he asks, out of breath, stroking Michael's cock reverently with just the tips of his long fingers, driving Michael mad. Michael lets his head fall back with a whimper before coming back to himself to answer.

'Uh yes, sorry, yes. Bathroom. Green bag on the sink.'

David gets up with an annoying grace and saunters to the bathroom. Michael uses this moment to take a deep breath, but refuses to think about anything but logistics now. 

When David comes back, he's stripped completely and Michael has to bite his tongue to stop himself from exclaiming and making an idiot of himself at the sight.   
David drops down on the pillow between Michael's legs, shooting him a thankful glance for it, and teases his cock some more before watching Michael's eyes go wide (and his legs open wider) when he puts a condom between his lips and leans down to roll it over Michael's cock easily. 

'Where did you learn t-' Michael begins but then David swirls his tongue around the head of his cock and he just moans.

It's not that he didn't expect David to be good at this. It's just. He is _so good_. His mouth is hot and wet, spit dripping down his chin. He doesn't seem to have any trouble taking Michael's cock deep, leaving only enough space to twist his fingers around the base and squeeze with every sucking motion. Michael is already leaking into the condom and he knows David will be able to feel the pulses of it against the roof of his mouth and his tongue. David pulls off almost completely, only swirling his tongue against the head of his cock, smiling up at him, all teeth and red lips stretched thin, flushed cheeks and messy hair. 

'God! Your-' 

Michael manages to cut himself off before saying _teeth_ because that is too weird, even for him, even if David comes up to straddle him again, licking those teeth in slow motion and then kissing him, biting Michael's bottom lip and sucking on it like he just had with his cock. David tastes faintly like _him_ now, smells like _him_ and Jesus Christ, how he wants that. He wants to eat him up whole and he wants to return the favour but right now, he is so close, and when he takes hold of David's cock, he's also rock-hard and David moans, arching his back. Michael takes the chance and tugs him closer with his other hand, tangling his fingers in the soft hair at David's neck, holding him in place while he licks into his open mouth, chasing his own taste through the chemical tang of the condom and David lets him, loops his arms around Michael's neck to bring them closer together, rocking up into his fist.

Michael strokes him hard and fast until David is panting irregularly into his mouth, his hips stuttering. He strokes his thumb over David's cheek soothingly, keeping him close, while reaching out to take both their cocks in his other hand now. David draws a sharp breath at the first contact, returning to bite at Michael's lips, sucking his tongue and pumping his hips into Michael's tight grip. It's friction, it's hot, it's hard, and not as wet as Michael would like it, slicked only by the precum leaking from David's tip, but David isn't complaining and Michael is too far gone to actually care enough to take a break for anything right now, even lube.

'Look at me,' he pleads because this is it and in this moment just before he falls, he thinks that he wants this to be real, wants David to see _him_ in this moment, even if it may be the only time, even if it may ruin everything, he has this one moment and he wants it, wants him, and David opens his eyes, and he looks at him, really looks, and he sees him, bringing a hand up to his face, cradling him with a softness that is at odds with their frantic fist-fucking and brings their foreheads together.

'Michael,' David whispers and it is this that takes Michael over he edge. He keeps pumping his hand, strokes them both through their releases blindly until they're spent and there's a mess on his belly from David's cum. 

David holds his face with both hands and kisses him for a long time, softly, whispering thanks into his mouth and when Michael gets shiver-y from the chill coming in through the open window, David gets up with a groan and a parting kiss to his nose and then his forehead and he takes off the condom and bins it while Michael still whimpers at the over-stimulation of his touch. David returns from the bathroom dressed almost completely, and with a wet flannel. He cleans Michael up, peppering more kisses along his chest and neck and jaw, then helps him find his own pants.

When they're both dressed and David has tried smoothing his hair in the mirror at the back of the door, he looks back at Michael, one hand on the door knob already. 

'Sleep well,' he says, with a fake smile. Michael doesn't smile back, and before he can think of anything to say, David is gone.


	3. When our smiles were genuine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _'No,' he says and it has never felt so hard to say it because David is right here, in his bed, beautiful and real and just like he wanted him, like he wants him, but he can't, it's not enough, it's _killing_ him, but he repeats: 'No.'_
> 
> In which Michael tries to say no and David can't say yes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry I'm so sorry I'm so sorry. I made myself sad with this and I appreciate all of you who wanna be sad with me (rest assured, nobody dies, except me maybe).  
> If this is Too Sad and Disappointing, y'all might like to check out the newest addition to my happy verse (aka the Looking series) where I tried to be funny and ended up being super sappy instead. No sadness there.

The morning after is tense, but they manage. Michael suggests talking about it but David, unsurprisingly, shakes his head and that's it. They don't talk that day or the next or the one after. 

Every time Michael tries to bring it up, David says no.

David says no, crowding Michael against the door as soon as he's entered the room, takes the breakfast tray from Michael's hands to carelessly deposit it on the side table. He says yes when Michael gets to work on his belt, takes it off, slides to the ground along with David's trousers and pants. 

'Michael, fuck! Easy!' He sounds breathless but it's Michael who feels already choked on David's cock and still tries to take him deeper. David is braced against the door, his thigh muscles tense as he tries to pull back but Michael holds him tight, continuing to swallow around him, breathing hard through his nose, fighting a gag when David cums without warning and fills his throat and mouth until he's dripping with it.

'Jesus sorry! Look at you! You're-' David interrupts himself to pull Michael up in a messy kiss, his skin flushed and eyes unfocused, but his tongue hot and clever as he licks his taste from Michael's mouth. Michael lets himself fall against the door at his back, lets David hold him up and _hold_ him, lets him taste and touch and touch and _touch_ , and Michael's head is swimming, he's still panting but it's good, so much and so good, he blindly reaches for David's face, kisses him back and spills over David's quick fingers with a half-swallowed moan.

He keeps kissing David, prolonging, dreading the moment that David goes back from moaning his name to whatever it is they pretended to be before all this. Eventually, he has to stop to breathe and so does David. It wasn't a quick kiss, but it wasn't enough, never long enough for Michael who kisses David goodbye every single time without telling him so. Because he never knows. David closes his eyes and when he opens them again, Michael doesn't have to ask, but he tries anyway.

'Can we talk?'

'Not now,' replies David, evading his eyes. 'I promised Georgia I'd call in a bit.'

To his credit, David is blushing, hard, but that doesn't do anything to soften the blow for Michael. And what a low blow it was. He turns around to fasten his belt, pressing his forehead against the door with a loud thud. He can sense David hovering behind him but not touching. Good. Michael is not sure he could stand it right now. Or ever again.

*

As it turns out, he cannot stand _not_ being touched by David, either. He lasts a whole day and a half, and he's proud of that. But then David apologises. 

He says 'I'm sorry,' and 'I miss you,' and promises that 'We can talk later,' and then he flings his arms around Michael and he's _shaking_ , sobbing silently into Michael's neck. It's got Michael helpless. Helpless to do anything but hold David, stroking his back soothingly, kissing his hair. That is, until David tilts his head up and catches his lips in a kiss that is wet with his tears and soft with longing. And Michael thinks that maybe, he just needs a little more time. And what do they have _but_ time. He can give him that time. Even if it pulls Michael's heart apart. He can be patient, if that's what David needs and it so clearly is.

David is kissing him softly, but his hands are strong in Michael's hair, pulling him closer and then it's not soft anymore, it's searing and sudden and it's David pushing him backwards into the bedroom, pushing him onto the bed, straddling him, pressing their groins together with a moan.

It's not that Michael doesn't want him, ~~God no, he wants and wants and wants,~~ but he catches David's hands on his shirt buttons, and holds his breath until David realizes he's stopped and looks down at him.

'David, please,' Michael says, voice breaking.

'Yes,' David replies, leaning down to kiss, struggling to free his hands, but Michael turns his face away.

'No,' he says and it has never felt so hard to say it because David is right here, in his bed, beautiful and real and just like he wanted him, like he wants him, but he can't, it's not enough, it's _killing_ him, but he repeats: 'No.'

He almost doesn't look up, but then David starts shivering again, and he can't help himself, he pulls David down to embrace him, rolling them to lay on their sides, facing each other, and David nuzzles into him, sniffling, hands still fisted into Michael's shirt. 

'Let me touch you,' David says, eyes turned downwards, lashes wet and dark against his freckled cheeks. 'Let me make it up to you.'

'No,' Michael groans half-heartedly as David gently presses his knee between Michael's thighs. 'No really, David. I can't.'

'You don't have to do anything. Just let me,' David now begs. 

'Just talk to me!'

'I can't. I'm just- I need you. Please Michael, please.'

Michael's never seen himself as a particularly good or honourable man but it's still frightening how much it turns him on to hear David beg and _know_ that - even if neither of them quite understands how or why that is - it's true and that, even if he won't do what Michael most needs right now, David is ready to do just about everything else he could think of to ask and _that_ is just too good to keep denying himself. 

He regrets it. He regrets it the moment David moans 'Yes, love,' because he wants it to be true, wants to hear David say it and mean it and not while they're drunk or fucking or both. He regrets it when David pulls out, kissing above his heart, along his arm, to stop with a kiss to the palm of his left hand. A kiss goodbye, without so many words. David gets out of bed and instantly Michael regrets letting him into it. David dresses silently and leaves without talking. 

*

He might be addicted, Michael thinks. Because try as he might, he can't stop it from happening again and again. He tries, he really does. And he should be happy because he's got the man he wants ~~, the man he loves,~~ in his arms and in his bed and, occasionally, against the wall or in the shower. But David simply refuses to talk to him and Michael misses talking to David. It's not just that they don't talk about _this_ , about _them_ , they also don't talk about anything else. Instead, Michael's lips are chafed, his muscles sore, his heart is bleeding. 

*

'I love you,' David moans, his thighs trembling as he comes, clenching around Michael's cock. His hands slide down Michael's back in exhaustion and he kisses Michael who is too stunned to reply. Michael is close, and David shifting minutely under him, almost purring in satisfaction, only gets his closer but his mind catches up with him unfortunately and with a shock he stills and looks at David.

'Don't say that.'

'Wha-? But I do!' David protests, trying to kiss him again, get him to move, all languid and hazy in post-orgasmic bliss. 

'And do you mean it also when we're done here?' Michael asks, not without bitterness, pushing at David to get up as gently as he can. He needs to get away. Now. If he doesn't stop this now, he'll never be able to. And David certainly won't.

When Michael reaches for his trousers, David makes a cut-off sound that is not quite clearing his throat and his voice is still raspy when he comes to stand before Michael, putting a hand over his, and asks: 'Can you- I mean, do you want to, would you like to stay the night?' He's not looking at Michael, focusing his gaze on the way he strokes his fingers over Michael's, instead.

Michael wants to say yes and stay and fuck David all through the night and he wants to say yes and stay and hold him and kiss him and sleep _with_ him and _next to_ him and wake up and do it all over and over and over again.

'Are we actually gonna talk about it, this time? Are _you_?' Michael asks instead.

Gazing up at him for just a second, David shakes his head, no.

Michael pulls his hand away and his trousers on. He can see, from the corner of his eyes, that David is pacing, running his hands through his hair repeatedly. 

'Are you sure?' Michael asks, zipping up. 

David stops, doesn't look at him, and says: 'Yes.'

Michael wants to say yes and to take David in his arms and not see him looking so small and lost and he feels like a massive dickhead leaving him like this but he reminds himself of all the times David said _no_ and how he loses himself a bit more every time, and all the times David has called him a friend and how it cuts him. Reminds himself that David is as grown up as him and it's David's decision to break his own heart just as it is Michael's decision not to allow David to break _his_ heart anymore.

'Then no. Good night, David.'

He doesn't turn around, doesn't kiss him goodbye. Tomorrow, they're gonna fly back to their families. Tomorrow, everything will be normal again for David if that's what he really wants. Michael doesn't believe it, but it's not his job to believe the lies David likes to tell himself, so it hardly matters. Michael has got his own lies.

**Author's Note:**

> As of now, most of chapter 2 is written and I'm not yet sure I'm which direction I'll go with chapter 3 so this might end up not having a happy ending, could really go either way...but hey, at least there's definitely gonna be smut in chapter 2! ;-)


End file.
